


Snakes in Black Water

by LadyofVenice



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-09-22 18:01:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9618908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyofVenice/pseuds/LadyofVenice
Summary: “I know we have to go after her” Wanda continued quietly, “I know what she’s done, what she’s capable of doing. I know we need to stop her. But” and the room was still, no one even bothering to breathe, “I can’t hurt her. I’ll help you find her but I won’t hurt her.” Steve met her eyes and he understood, Wanda knew he did, how it was about so much more than protecting a friend. It was about saving the person who carried the bit of your heart that you never get back.In which memory shows itself to be a tricky, brutal thing and the past has a way of showing up in the most unexpected places.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place post-Civil War though there might be slight divergences from the MCU canon. Obviously, none of the ideas or characters portrayed belong to me.

Present Day:

Wanda’s breath was a block in her throat, a brick in her lungs.

It shouldn’t have been so striking, the video footage shown by the Wakandan officer: a woman dressed in a worn hoodie moving through various parts of secure building, slowly but surely breaking in. Walking away with vibranium. Brushing aside security measures like they were bits of candy floss. 

There was nothing, objectively, terrifying.

In Wanda’s mind there was chaos. 

She closed her eyes and tried to breathe past the block in her throat. And there dancing behind her eyes was one of the most frightening things she had ever seen: a face. A memory. A lifetime. September.

This sickening feeling grew inside Wanda, like she wanted to rip her own stomach out. 

It had only been a split second. It had been the thief’s only mistake. A slightly wrong angle, just a hair of a wrong turn and there, her face caught on camera.

A face Wanda had seen a hundred, a million times. A face she had forgotten, or at least pretended she had. But my god memory is a tricky thing. 

Wanda’s fingers wanted to reach out and brush the screen, to reach the skin underneath it. She wanted to see September’s eyes, look into the corneas imprinted in her own. 

She closed her own eyes briefly, softly, and the midst of the discussion about this woman, said, “I know her.”

The room turned silent as Steve, Sam, T’Challa, and Natasha looked at her. Finally Steve spoke, “What exactly do you mean – know her?”

“I, I know her. We were best friends. We grew up together.” And it was as if the weight of the world swung behind those words, they were so heavy. “Her name is September.”

+

They were meeting in a conference room to discuss this revelation but Wanda had had to excuse herself, claiming she needed to use the bathroom.   
The face that stared back at her from the bathroom mirror was a milky, haunted thing. Grey, like the color had been leached by long illness. Her hands gripped the marble edge of counter, turning her fingers bone white. She was shaking.

She couldn’t stop shaking.

September, Sep, her… her everything. Her childhood, her first love, her first kiss, her first … everything. She was memory and pain and the afternoon light in July when life was lit up, perfect. 

Wanda gripped the counter. 

Someone had to be betrayed. To not tell them anymore about September would be turning her back on the only family she had left. To tell them all about September was to abandon her past. 

But standing there, faced with her own reflection, Wanda understood that she had already made her choice when she told them Sep’s name. Because in that moment when she saw that the thief and September were one and the same Wanda knew. Knew that if Sep had become twisted, dark, working for people with twisted and dark intentions, then she had to be stopped. And if there was a different reason she stole that vibranium … then maybe, just maybe, they could meet again.

Let there be something left, Wanda silently whispered, let there be something to save.

+

She returned to the conference room. Something, it must have been her ears, heard Steve speaking, asking her more about how she knew September. 

And it must have been Wanda’s mouth that moved, because it was her voice that said “We first met when we were about 5 or 6. She and her father moved to my town, they lived just a few houses down. She, Pietro, and I grew up together, did everything together,” we were everything to each other “we lost contact when I started working with Hydra – she didn’t want me to do it. Thought it dangerous, and stupid.” I should have listened to her, I should have let that future exist and just listened to her “And then after what happened in Sokovia I tried to look for her, but she was gone. Disappeared without a trace. About a week after Sokovia actually, that’s when any record of her stops. This is the first time I’ve seen her since I was nineteen.”

Wanda looked at her hands, the way they were twining through her hair, “And there’s something else about her. September is … special.

“When she was little, about three, she was exposed to some sort of magical artifact. It changed her. After, she was able to turn her body into anything she touched. One night we lit a fire and she became flame… so if she touches the vibranium, that’s what she’ll become.”

For a moment the room was silent. Dead quiet. 

“I know we have to go after her” Wanda continued quietly, “I know what she’s done, what she’s capable of doing. I know we need to stop her. But” and the room was still, no one even bothering to breathe, “I can’t hurt her. I’ll help you find her but I won’t hurt her.”

Steve met her eyes and he understood, Wanda knew he did, how it was about so much more than protecting a friend. It was about saving the person who carried the bit of your heart that you never get back. 

The stillness dominating the room was shattered by the entrance of a soldier who crisply saluted T’Challa before saying “Your majesty, we have received reports that a woman matching the description of the vibranium thief is currently at the central hospital holding a doctor hostage.”

T’Challa s eyes fixed the soldier for the briefest second before he said “Thank you. We will handle the situation.”

And Wanda could only spare a moment for the fear that now lived like a beast in her throat.

 

+

20 minutes ago

September was shaky, broken. Breaking down.

Her shoulder burned like fire.

She stumbled through the hospital corridors, trying not to draw attention, knowing that there was little she could do if anyone tried to stop her.

The hallways were thankfully quiet. Her breathing was ragged, loud.

The map in her head flickered in and out. Black film hung at the corners of her eyes.

Her muscles were flame. 

According to the map, the room should be just ahead. Just up there, down the hall. She gripped the stolen ID badge in her sweaty palm. It could not drop. She would not fall. 

There, the room was there. No more than three meters away. Her body was shredding apart. Head down, keep going. Keep going.

ID badge against the door. And she was in. For a second, a precious second, she collapsed against the counter. But time was running out. Turning around she began to look desperately around, her eyes skipping across medicine after medicine, searching for the one she needed. 

In the corner was the refrigerator. She stumbled towards it. Ripping the door open, refusing to pause and savor the cool against her feverish skin, September looked desperately. 

There it was.

Grabbing the bottle in one hand, she prepared to shove it into her bag.

The door to the room opened and closed with a soft thunk. Her heart stopped. Slowly, knowing there was no other option, September turned around. 

The doctor’s face transformed from mere curiosity to horror. September’s face had been plastered over every type of media in Wakanda during the last 24 hours. He knew who she was. 

His fingers shook, “Stay, stay where you are.”

Even as she took a step toward him, he reached for his cell phone. 

September knew she couldn’t outrun the guards he would summon. So instead she said, softly “Please don’t make that call. I know what they say I am, what they think I am,” and here her voice turned desperate, ragged with pain “but please, you’re a doctor. You have to understand – I’m sick, my shoulder’s infected, and if you make that call then the people who hurt me will be able to find me again, and then it will be so much worse. I’m dying because of what they did to me.” Her breath was fast in her throat, “All I took was penicillin. Please, look at it, all I have is penicillin.”

And his eyes were sympathetic, torn, but she knew even before his fingers hit, call, that it wasn’t enough. 

Pushing past him she bolted for the door, running down the silent corridors that were slowly exploding with noise.

They were coming, the soldiers with their guns. There was a park behind the hospital, she would go there. There wasn’t enough time to go to the meeting spot with T’Kala. It was all too dangerous. She ran towards the park. Maybe then she would be the only person who would get hurt. 

And behind her September left a trail of blood.

\+ 

“Be advised” a voice said in their ear pieces, “the suspect has left the hospital and appears to be injured. She is now inside the park outside the hospital. Civilians are being evacuated.”

T’Challa responded with a low affirmation and silence once more reigned in the helicopter. 

Wanda was still, trying to focus on her breath. Trying to prepare herself for looking into those eyes once again. What would see – would she be able to bear what was in them.  
Wanda was frightened to look into those eyes.

The tone of the chopper blades whomp whomp shifted, bringing Wanda back to the present. Outside the window the world swam by. A green lawn, a park, was coming into view. Her heart hammered.

In the ear piece again, “The suspect has fled towards the left corner of the park. There’s too much foliage to determine an exact position but we’re going to drop you as close as possible. Be ready to jump in five

Four 

Three

Two 

One

Wanda leapt from the open door. For a moment she held onto the breath between flying and falling. Then the ground rushed up and she snaked out tendrils of red, catching her body before it could hit the earth. 

Wanda took the path to the right, not sure whether she wanted to reach September first. 

Over her ear piece she heard, “the suspect is entering a clearing, Captain Rogers and Maximoff you’re both close – keep following your respective paths.”

The rest of his words were drowned out by the roar of blood. Wanda ran. 

She felt as her body was splitting along two time lines, that part of her was up ahead with September. That she was inhabiting two beating hearts. A shared press of grass and a shared knowledge of the scent of green leaves.

The edge of the clearing came, and Wanda was only herself once more. 

And there was September. Clouds brushed against the sun. There was the sound of ragged breathing and the whip of chopper blades.

September looked toward Wanda but didn’t meet her eyes. The clothes on her body were ragged and worn down. The hair hanging from beneath her baseball cap was brushed, but dull. And there was the blood, so much blood, coating the sleeve of her right shoulder, thick and raw.

They both were paralyzed, but time wouldn’t stop for them. Steve came into the clearing and even as he threw his shield September tried to run. But as she turned her leg gave out and she collapsed into the dirt, smacking her head into the ground and it echoed. The reverberation rippled through everything, the soles of Wanda’s feet up through her lungs and brain.   
Wanda snapped out red tendrils, pinning down September’s hands and feet, nailing her to the ground. And she heard the helicopter wheel overhead and knew what was going to happen a moment before it did. 

With every ounce of energy she had left, with all the strength she held Wanda created a barrier between the chopper and September’s body. Against it rained bullet after bullet. They stopped shooting seconds later after harsh command from T’Challa but Wanda barely heard his voice. All she cared about was the way September was breathing. 

Walking on unsteady feet Wanda came to stand next to her body. And there were the memories. Of things of more than friends. Of the kiss the pressure and the push and rush and run, the fall. A life blurred behind her eyes.

Sep was twitching, her body shaking like it was wracked by fever. Blood kept up the slow seep from her shoulder. Wanda felt more than saw Steve walk up behind her, and, shaking slightly, she knelt and pull loose a container half falling from September’s hand.

Penicillin.

On the ground September was still twitching, bleeding.

Penicillin, finger prints red on its label.

Her eyes briefly opened and stared straight at Wanda. In them was a violence that ripped away all the air. Then they snapped closed, she passed out. 

Feeling the helicopter overhead, feeling the approach of Sam and T’Challa, Wanda closed her eyes for a second. The span of a butterflies kiss.

When she opened them she took September’s hand in her own. 

There was a thin screaming in her mind. 

The world was white, each breath a filament of glass. 

Wanda breathed and felt her lungs cut up. She held onto September’s hand. She felt the price of remembering.


	2. Chapter 2

In the beginning, there is the darkness. But even before the beginning, there is the grey. In her three year old’s memory the scene is monochrome, lacking all real color. Like a dream. September sits on the floor of her mother’s study, a dusty place that made always makes her sneeze.

But then, when she looks up, It is there and in her eyes it glitters. To her It seems to sing. 

It hums a thrumming sound and she knows somehow that there, in that obsidian stone, the darkness lives, breaths with a force all its own. 

Little fingers and stubby legs climb the chair, the desk, the ledge of the shelf. Her mother shouldn’t have left It so open, so vulnerable. Her mother isn’t there.

It’s always curiosity that kills the cat, in the end. 

She doesn’t even have to touch It, the darkness just comes to her, slipping out like squid ink freed from gravity. Coating her arms, her legs, her body, encasing her. The darkness is there, when September tries to scream.

The darkness is the loss of air. 

And it is there as the black casing it created falls off her body, leaving her skin unmarked. It is insidious, swimming in her blood. Leaving behind a little girl who is almost quite human, and almost quite not. 

+

3 Months Before the Events of Chapter 1:

“Hello …. Hello…?”

Through the cotton in her head September heard this voice. As if it was underwater. But it wasn’t hard to pay it no mind, sink back into the sticky, thick sleep. No point being awake simply to go insane. 

That would have been too easy.

“Are you awake?”

Every time this … thing… spoke to her September could feel herself waking up a little bit more, curious despite herself, desperate for any relief from the monotony. 

“You aren’t going crazy. I know it probably seems like it, but you aren’t. I promise.”

Something about the words didn’t seem … delusional, like they had been cooked up by a broken-down brain. There was an undercurrent there that felt honest, real. September began to fight the fog in her mind in earnest, but it was hard. She had been gone for so long. 

But bit by bit she clawed her way back to something resembling consciousness. And it was awful. For the first time in ages she felt the air going through her nose and it rubbed like sandpaper over rust. An ache ran through her body, so deep she might have had ice for bones. The pounding in her head intensified. 

On instinct her eyes tried to flicker open, but the lids still wouldn’t move.

Maybe she should have just stayed asleep.

“Hi,” the voice said again.

And September still wasn’t convinced that she hadn’t totally, finally, lost her mind. She had already woken up though, and suddenly going back into that blackness seemed so terrifying and empty. 

The voice didn’t give her long to think in silence, “Sorry for um, well, hacking into your brain, this whole thing would have been a lot easier in-person, not that that’s exactly feasible considering that I’m locked up and I’m guessing that you are too. My name is Abbey.”

Despite everything, all September could think was how if they had meet in person Abbey might have passed out, because judging on the way she spoke she never paused to breathe. 

Not sure what to say, September merely replied, “Um, nice to meet you, Abbey. Now, can you please explain why you’re in my head?”

Again, Abbey spoke in a rush, “I have this power, I can talk to people inside their minds. It’s like a telephone call, except I’m the only person who can do the actual calling. This cell they’ve got in me in, whatever spell they put on it has been fritzing out a little bit and well you’re the first person I was able to find who didn’t seem like of them. You aren’t, are you?” She didn’t even give September time to respond before continuing, “I know you don’t have any real reason to trust me. Because this thing, it seems exactly like something they would do just to mess with you. All I can tell you is that I’m going crazy in this place.” A pause, “I just want someone to talk to.”

September took a deep breathe. There was no good reason to trust her, except that this woman, Abbey, was right. Trying to live here alone was asking to lose your mind, and September was tired of dying.

“I’m not one of them, I can tell you that. I…” and she had told so few people this that the words still felt strange on her tongue, but her story felt like the only proof she had, “I turn into anything I touch. When they brought me they forced me to drink something and then put a metal rod through my shoulder. Something in that drink made me transform into metal and now no matter what I touch, I’m always metal. But just to make sure, they put me in a full-body suit and paralyzed me. I haven’t been able to open my eyes since they took me. That’s the worst bit,” she said softly, “not being able to see.”

+

“September, are you awake?” There was a tight panic to Abbey’s voice, a terrible tension September had never heard before. 

“What’s wrong, are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah no it’s... I’m fine. Just wanted to hear somebody’s voice.”

“Abbey what’s wrong?”

“It’s stupid.”

“Yes but you’re scared so what is it?”

“I, I had a nightmare.”

For a moment September was silent, and then she said, “When I was little I was terrified of being alone in the dark. Could not do it. So whenever I had a nightmare my dad would always come in and sit next to me and I would tell him about it. It always made me feel better.”

“Is this your way of subtly hinting that I’ll feel better if I tell you what I dreamed?”

“Might be.”

“It was … I dreamed about my mom. She’s not well. She was fine when I was a kid but after I graduated college she started getting really sick. I got a good job with a good company, worked my way up the ranks. I was able to take care of her, put her in a good nursing facility where they really cared.

“But now that I’m here … I have some saved, but not enough to care for her for the rest of her life. I don’t know what’s happened to her. I dreamed that she was in a grey room, laying on this bed with dead white sheets and her skin was nearly worn through and her hair was falling out and she kept crying for me. Crying to me to come and save her, because she couldn’t save herself anymore.”

September was quiet again, because she just didn’t know what to say. ‘I’m sorry’ didn’t feel like close to encompassing anything anymore. But she said it anyway, “I’m sorry. That sounds like a terrible dream. I didn’t know about your mother. I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.”

They were quiet and September could feel her brain buzzing, desperately trying to think of any words to fill the void.

But then Abbey spoke, and her voice was unusually quiet, hesitant, “Hey September?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you just talk to me for a little bit, about anything?”

“Yeah. Yeah I can do that.” She imagined the feeling of taking a deep breath and then said, “There was this one night, when I was ten and my dad took me star gazing. We drove for what felt like days into this ancient forest. I never laughed harder than when I watched him trying to set up a tent. This tweed-wearing professor foiled by bendy plastic pools. He also insisted on lighting a fire but the wood was too wet. He wouldn’t let me become the fire and just cook the hotdogs over my arm, which I thought was a real shame.” She remembered the warmth of his laugh, how he had hugged her so tightly, “The hot dogs ended up being undercooked but it was fantastic. All of it. 

“As dusk settled in he led me out the field, and there were no lights, there wasn’t anything. We laid there and laid there until all the stars were out and then we stayed just a bit longer. All my life I have dreamed of that vibrant light.”

+

“Hi September.”

“Hey Abbey, what’s up?”

“Well” she replied “I had a super engaging day taking a walk through the park, going out for pastry, and then binge-watching TV.”

“Mentioning pastry right there was a low blow.”

“I know, I know, but I can’t stop thinking about a sweet, flaky, buttery shell filled with...”

“Seriously?” September interrupted, “I have a feeding tube down my throat and you’re talking about pastry?” 

“Right, sorry, bad manners, where was I?”

“Lalaland?”

“Haha very funny, but really… oh right. So, um, I have a proposition for you. Not that kind of proposition, obviously, but you remember how I said I could link multiple minds at once?”

“No.” 

“Really? Usually I mention that…. anyway I can link multiple minds at once, and the spell on my cell has been getting even more frazzled. I was able to reach someone else and I was wondering if after I told you about him you might be okay with him joining our conversation?” The words fell out of her in a rush.

This strange, icy fear began to trickle through September. Being awake, keeping herself from collapsing, clinging to what she hoped was the thine edge of sanity, all that was possible because she could talk to Abbey. She had someone to say hi to, to say goodnight to. And when she slept it was real sleep. And awake or asleep there was always a buzz at the back of her mind, the undercurrent of their connection letting her know she wasn’t alone. 

“No.” And the words she didn’t say, I’m sorry, I can’t.

“What do you mean, no?”

And this time the words bubbled out of her, “I mean that I can’t. I trust you, but for so long I was barely able to hope that any of this might actually be real. Don’t you realize that with every new person you invite we risk be found out or exposed or trapped with one of them inside of brains. How can you take that risk. How?”

If she had been speaking September would have been shouting, her lungs breaking her throat cracking. 

Abbey replied stiffly, “I’m sorry you feel that way. I won’t stop talking to him, but I won’t tell him about you.”

“Abbey wait,”

But the connection went dead anyway.

+

The darkness arrives again later. 

She is only three years old and knows she is different, but her mother and step-father don’t seem to understand that yet. 

They are lighting a fire in the backyard, ready for a barbeque.

She can feel the magnetic pull, she knows if she touches it she will burn but not die. 

Calling out, she says, “Mommy, mommy, look what I can be!”

And September puts her hand into the fire. Her body becomes a roaring flame. The ground beneath her begins to singe and burn. Smoke, a damp grey, fills the sky. Her mother starts screaming and screaming and screaming. The air tastes acid. September stops, now frightened too.

And then she sees how they both begin to back away and she runs forward and they back away and she runs forward and then she sees it. That thing in their eyes, the creature they see instead of a little girl.

September screams. 

+

It was getting hard again. To fight off the sleep that wasn’t so much sleep as much as a long descent with no stairs to the surface.

She was forgetting again, the memories drifting to where this place could not touch them. 

The smell of her father’s aftershave, her favorite teacher’s voice, the breakfast she and father always made on a Sunday morning. The days by the beach and the clearings of the parks and woods where she ran free…Her very best friend. The end of that world. 

They had stopped talking after that day, September ignoring Abbey every time she tried to talk, relishing the silence of her own mind. 

But now… so far in, she didn’t want this anymore. 

So when she felt Abbey reach out September grabbed onto it like a lifeline. She didn’t even give Abbey time to speak.

“Abbey, Abbey, I’m sorry. I meant it when I said that I trusted you.” She had to get these words out, no matter how much they hurt, “it’s just ever since they brought me here, trusting people scares me. The way they got me was because I let them in, because I was so damn stupid. The Lady Sif pretended to be my friend and I believed her. I had just lost Wanda and I wanted that feeling back, that click with another human being. I wanted it so badly that I told her everything; what I could do, what I could become. I wanted to love her. 

“Now I know that everything she said or did was a lie. But not for me. And that’s how they got to me, I lead them right in,” and she couldn’t keep the blackness out of her voice, didn’t want to, “So when you mentioned another person all that fear over the mistake I made, all that anger, rose right back up. It’s not that I don’t trust you – it’s that I don’t trust me.”

There was a pause, and then, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that that happened to you.”

“I didn’t know how to tell you. I’ve missed you, Abbey, I’ve really missed you. And I’m so sorry for shutting you out.”

“It’s okay,” and here her voice was gentle, and she meant every word, “I understand. I might have also missed you a little bit too. But only just a bit.”

“Thanks Abbey.” 

There was a space of silence and then September spoke again, “What’s his name?” 

“What?”

“His name, of the boy you told me about.” 

“You don’t have to do that. This doesn’t need any atonement.” 

“No, this isn’t atonement. It’s because I trust you.” 

“His name is T’Kala. He’s really sweet I promise. From what he says it sounds like he’s been here almost as long as you. He’s also really close to your age, only about 20 years old. 

“When can I meet him?” When September said those words, she meant them. 

“Well considering that he’s awake, how does now sound?”

September had to bite back a laugh. “Now sounds great.”

+

After that initial meeting, which despite Abbey’s best efforts had been awkward, the three of the became close. They were a family of sorts, bound by the knowledge that they might never see their families again. 

She came to know them like she had once known her father, learning Abbey’s tendency to get cranky when she was tired and T’Kala’s dry wit. They started to tell each other stories when someone couldn’t sleep or stand the silence one second longer. They said everything, for fear that they would never be able to tell the stories again. 

T’Kala talked about his home by the sea and how he and his mother collected seashells, filling their house with them. He never spoke of his father except to say that he had died and his grave was covered in shells.

Abbey told them story after story about her mother and the crazy antics she had gotten up to, growing up wild and free in New York City. She always remembered her mother as young, smiling. 

When September spoke she tried to conjure up images of her father. But sometimes other stories slipped out, and even when those weren’t about Wanda, they were always about Wanda. 

And then one day everything changed. 

“We have to leave, we have to escape.”

“Abbey,” T’Kala said, “What’s wrong, what do you mean we have to escape?”

September chimed in then, “Abbey, calm down for a minute, what happened?”

“One of the guards. He got careless, started talking to me, taunting me really. Said that they only have us here because we’re going to be useful to them. That soon they’re going to take us away and break us and, and turn us into the perfect army.

“That’s their plan, that’s why they have us. They’re going to shatter us in to soldier-sized pieces and send us to war. We have to leave. We have no choice.” 

They were silent then, trying to understand how in the span of a sudden second the world had shifted. Trying to learn how to walk on this new axis, under this strange gravity.

First T’Kala and then September responded, “OK.”


	3. Chapter 3

Wanda stood on the other side of the glass, and everything felt split … fractured. She leaned her head against the cool panel, pressed, pressed, and pressed until it seemed that her spinal cord would have to give in and shatter under the pressure.

September.

As hard as she fought she couldn’t keep the few tears that slipped from her eyes. The memories of summer and winter and days when Pietro lived and if life wasn’t good then at least there were things worth fighting for. 

Those past days when their hands met like a kiss and the three of them claimed time against the world when they could run and be free. That perfect August when they visited the ocean, sat on the shore with their feet dipped in the salt, eating fruit whose juice spiraled down their hands. 

Those past times when they fought and fought and fought and eventually lost each other. Like a body that doesn’t want to admit that its bleeding out. The chill, Wanda remembered that, how it shot out from the bone to burn like poison. 

From behind glass Wanda watched the doctor’s fight the illness and exhaustion running rampant through September’s body. Witnessed the moment when September’s heart stopped beating. 

Chaos broke out, macabre in its silence. 

A crash cart was dragged over, she watched mouths make the words ….

Clear. Jolt. Silence.

Clear. Jolt. Silence.

Clear. Jolt. Beep beep beep.

A line reappeared. Later she found the bloody crescents in her palms.

Wanda wasn’t sure how long she stood there before Steve came over, or how long he stood there before she listened to what he was saying. 

“It’s okay to take a break for minute, they’ve got her stable.”

“What?”

“Take a break, sit down, eat something. It’s okay.”

“I don’t think,” she said very softly, “that it is.”

“Wanda…”

“No. I did this to her.”

Steve interrupted her, “You did what you felt you had to do. This, these injuries, you might very well have saved her. She was dying without medical treatment.”

Wanda was silent for a moment before responding, “That doesn’t justify it. Betraying her. Turning her in. Any of it.”

And Steve replied just as softly, “I know.” Then, because there were no more words that could encapsulate what had been done, Steve leaned over and hugged Wanda tightly. His arms, his chest, his hair saw her grief and said I know, I know, I know.

Letting go, Wanda turned back to the glass. Her palm lightly rested against it. 

“How did you do it with Bucky?” she asked softly, “How did you learn to watch him hurt?”

Steve sighed for a long moment and then answered honestly, “I had to try and forgive myself, and be patient with him. The forgiveness part is harder.”

“I think I understand why,” she replied with a wry smile, darkness underneath. 

“Here. I brought you a sandwich.” He held it out to her, peanut butter and jelly on wheat, “And there’s a bottle of water over there if you want it.”

That brought the first real smile to Wanda’s face, “You knew…”

“That you weren’t going to leave – yeah. But I had to say it anyway.” And his face turned more serious, more earnest than before, “Because it’s true, everything I said, it’s all true.”

“Thanks Steve,” she whispered in reply.

For hours Wanda watched. And wondered. What could do that sort of damage to a body, who had hurt September. An anger rose up, drop by noxious drop. Something so deep she hadn’t felt it in a long time. The vile mess of grief and pain. 

Wanda faced the window and watched the world begin and end and live and die.

\+ + + 

“Finally – victory!”

Wanda turned and tried not to laugh. It was July, boiling hot. The asphalt was steaming, near liquid. Sep had been at it for hours, cursing and yelling and begging for the engine to work. She was covered in sweat and dirt and grease. Pietro had retreated hours ago but Wanda stayed, first out of amusement and then for some soft curl of fondness in her chest. 

September continued addressing the motorcycle’s engine, “It might have taken me a good part of my life and all of my patience, but you, my friend, are finally working. The world may have doubted me but I proved them wrong!” After a victorious fist-pump she swung onto the bike and kick-started the engine. 

Wanda bit the inside of her lip to keep from laughing but couldn’t resist saying, “Little overdramatic don’t you think?”

“Screw you,” September replied with a smile and her usual charm, “I’m taking it out for a spin, I’ll be back …. I have no idea.”

Just as she was pulling out of the driveway Wanda called, “Your helmet!”

But with a laugh and a shrug Sep pulled all the way out onto the street, saying, “What in god’s do you think is able to hurt me?”

Speeding up, she flew down the street, long hair whipping around in the amber summer wind. 

Wanda closed her eyes. They were sixteen.

\+ + + 

It was over. The surgery. They had wheeled September, sedated, into the ICU. Her skin looked so pale under all those lights, like she hadn’t been breathing for hours after all.

Shaking herself, shaking off the thoughts, Wanda focused again on Steve and T’Challa, one of whom was staring at her more patiently than the other. T’Challa must have been trying to talk to her before because he repeated, “Wanda – I know this has been difficult for you but I need to ask if you know any way of holding September securely?”

Wanda sat back, breathed deeply through her nose. Would it ever stop, would there be a point where she decided, this here was too much? 

September had looked at her like a traitor, Wanda couldn’t help but wonder if her words proved September right, “….Just make sure that she can’t touch any particularly malleable materials. If she can transform into something like soft fabric or water it’s pretty easy for her to slip out of restraints.” And when she finished speaking Wanda couldn’t quite look up to meet Steve’s eyes. Her heart was hammering thick beats – right, wrong, lover, traitor – and she wondered if there was a point where he would no longer understand. Steve always seemed to know where to stand, he had this unshakeable ability to be sure. 

“Wanda,” Steve said softly, “It has been a long day, why don’t you go and get some rest now.”

“Would, would I be able to sleep in September’s hospital room? I just want her to have a friendly face if she wakes up during the night.”

Not that she’ll want to see it…

“By all means, just make sure to actually get some rest.”

“Will do” she replied with a wan smile.

Just as she was twisting the door handle open Steve called out, “Oh I almost forgot to mention, Tony and Vision are coming by. Tony claims he’s here for national security reasons but really I think it’s because he’s curious but won’t admit it. Since they’re here though we were thinking about having Vision stand guard outside September’s hospital room. It might be safer having him there if anything happens.”

“Of course. Good thinking. It’ll be nice to see Vision again.” As she closed the door and walked down the hallway she felt something akin to dread. Vision was one of her closest friends. But this, this he was incapable of understanding. 

\+ + + 

When she arrived at September’s hospital room Wanda paused in the doorway. All was silent. September lay still on the hard, plastic bed, her chest barely rising or falling. Wanda walked over to the chair in the corner and pushed up against the wall. Trying to make herself somewhat comfortable, she curled up into a tight ball and rested her head against the off-white paint. 

Her eyes stayed open, watching the light of the moon slip through the thin window and journey across the room. 

Then she woke with a jolt. Shaking her head, Wanda tried to wake up. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep. But something about the air, as if it had slowly been leeching out the room, had made her body come to attention. 

Blinking in the darkness she realized a sound was missing. She couldn’t hear September’s quiet breathing. Jerking upright she saw nothing on September’s bed but empty arm restraints. And Wanda would never apologize for the relief that flooded her when she realized that no breathing meant escaped, not dead. 

The fear, of where she had gone, where she was going, came after. 

Carefully, Wanda stood. She didn’t want to make any sound. 

If Vision came in, if he realized that September was gone he would sound the alarm. If September was caught trying to escape … people already distrusted because of her powers, thought her guilty because she stole vibranium. Escaping – escaping would just make everything worse. 

A chill grew at the base of Wanda’s spine as she surveyed the room, looking for the way that September had escaped. What she could have transformed into. The chill grew and grew, eating Wanda’s vertebrae alive as she realized the way. The only way. 

The thing September had sworn she would never do again. 

Fear crashed rampant through Wanda’s veins as she remembered that promise, the day September nearly died. The first time she tried becoming air. 

September had been terrified as she began fading, fading, faster and faster, uncontrollably. Her body became nothing but an outline that could be washed away by a sudden breeze. How she suddenly snapped back into her human form and collapsed on the ground, gasping for air and simultaneously terrified to breathe. 

Wanda held September’s shaking body for hours that night, neither of them able to sleep. 

Instead, as the moon, rose, peaked, fell, she cradled September and waited for her bone-white grip on the blanket to loosen. She listened to September’s ragged voice swear that she would never, ever do that again. 

“Oh my god,” Wanda whispered, her voice a crack in the night, “Oh my god.”

Because if it was the only way… 

She could be breathing in the particle remains of her best friend right now. 

Inhale, exhale. Lungs comsumming lungs. 

Wanda felt her body go dizzy, and her brain strangely detached as the whole room tilted sideways for a long moment, colors drifting silvery-blue. 

As if on auto-pilot her hand reached out to catch herself, instinct stepping in for a failing brain. The sharp impact of a counter corner jolted Wanda, woke her up. 

Try to think, she closed her eyes and tried so hard to think. The harder she focused the louder the clock on the wall seemed to tick, a concussive, incessant thud. 

Hurry up now, it’s time it whispered, hurry up hurry up hurry up hurr..

No. Wanda couldn’t let her mind spin away again. Either September died in this room, or she didn’t. 

If she did, there was nothing Wanda could do but collapse here onto this floor. 

Instead, Wanda chose option number two.

Her fingers curled in the empty air, nails fitting into the still-fresh crescents in her skin.

Breathing deeply she sent out flairs of red, deep as blood against obsidian air. If September had left this room, even as air, the movement would have had to leave a trace. Please, please, let it have left a trace.

Opening her eyes Wanda exhaled, but not too hard, because there, there it was. Leading out through the crack in the door was a disturbed mass of air that looked, if you tried, like the outline of a person. 

“Please.” She breathed in, “let this work.”

Steeling her face and hoping none of the emotions of the last minutes came through, she quietly opened the door. To the left stood Vision, his impassive face slipping into a half smile when he saw her.

Intoning quietly, he said, “Wanda. I hope you are doing well even in these … unfortunate circumstances.”

She shrugged, “I am okay. Just tired.”

He nodded and seemed to be about to speak again. Wanda, her heart hammering upwards to her throat cut him off. She had to move, or she was going to lose September. 

“Vision, I’m sorry, but I’m really, really tired. I haven’t slept since I don’t even know when. I have to get to a bed and lie down.” 

Unwilling to alert Vision that anything was wrong, Wanda didn’t send out any more flares of red. Her only hope was that September would have slipped out the nearest exit. Walking quickly away, Wanda headed for the nearest emergency exit. Please, please, let this be right. 

Once the door screeched shut, she paused and threw flares of red before her. Had Vision’s hearing not been super-naturally good, she would have whooped for joy. Because travelling down the flights of stairs was swirling air, that if you looked at is just right, could be the shape of a body. 

Wanda ran.

When she hit the bottom floor she threw the door open before her. The night air was like a slap in the face, damp and cool. Involuntarily, her spine shivered. 

Desperate now, she threw out tendrils of red. Nothing. Oh, they caught eddies and currents and puddles of wind. They caught all the breaths of air which could so easily destroy a trail, or eat a person. 

Wanda froze, her lungs begging her to scream. Just a little they said, just scream. 

But the air into her lungs wouldn’t come because here was blood cannibalizing blood.   
Finally, instinct over-road shock and air flooded in, so fast she had to muffle her coughs. 

Desperate, she scanned the surrounding area again. A half-moon split the world into shadows, the parking lot a strange, bone-white hue, the wall of the park a dark, obsidian blue. The grey pikes of the fence in-between. 

Trying one more time, she prayed for impossible things. And there, right there, there it was. At what must be the entrance to the park. The red tendrils caught a mass of air that might indicate, if you really wanted it to, a person passing. 

Running, shoving the gate aside, she found herself on a dirt path through a park. Again and again, she threw fiery trails. Again and again, the signs of movement became more clear. Too clear. Almost as if a body and not a spirit had passed through.

Please, please, please…

The red began to burn brighter; vibrant, lurid, a scar.

She ran faster, rounded a corner, and suddenly there a figure stood. It was black against the white night of the moon. 

September.

Her shoulders were hunched, broken-down, but her fists were curled up and ready for a fight. 

“September.”

Silence.

A little louder, “September.”

More silence.

A third time, plaintive, “Sep.”

This time September responded, violently, “Don’t call me that.” She turned around and her face was stark white. There was a wildness in there, a hunger. 

She repeated, “Don’t you dare.”

Wanda replied, “September…”

She interrupted, “What the fuck are you doing here Wanda?”

Wanda tried to respond but September interrupted her again, “Let me answer that for you, save you from any more lying. You want to bring me back, but I’m not going to do that, not willingly. So you best be prepared to cause pain.” She turned around slowly, her body a knife on the edge of exploding, “Because I am.”

Seeing the blank fire in September’s eyes, Wanda made a decision. And September was going to kill her for it. 

“Let me go!” September screamed, jolting back in shock when red ropes twinned around her calves and ankles.

“We aren’t going to hurt each other,” Wanda hissed out. 

“Oh, so now we’re not hurting each other?” September spit, “Did you tell yourself that you weren’t hurting me when you betrayed me? What a sweet justification that must have been when you started working with the Asguardians. When you told your team all about my powers, when you gave them every secret I ever shared with you. I didn’t want to believe it, but when I saw the media reports about how close you guys were with Thor … well I’m not too fucking stupid to draw conclusions. So I hope you happy with what you’ve done,” and she threw her arms wide, like a corpse conducting a funeral, “because look at us now: you a traitor and me a dead woman walking.”

Wanda felt herself shaking, stunned, confused, by September’s words, “I have no idea what you’re talking about, no idea…”

“No idea. No idea?” September laughed and the sound wasn’t funny, “You have no idea?” She took a step forward, but the movement was hampered by the red lines twined around her feet, “Oh you goddamned coward.”

Then Wanda got angry, “Don’t you dare call me that.”

“I’ll dare whatever I please,” September replied, now yelling, her face a slash split by her mouth, “I know too much to ever believe your lies. Because it’s all lies your hiding behind Wanda Maximov. So cut the stupid act and let’s handle this like adults.” For one, we can fight to the death, her broken body seemed to imply. “Because we both know what they’ll do to me if they catch me. If I’m handed back to the Asguardians they’ll just throw me right back into Cree prison. And that’s hell without even dying. If I stay here, more testing, more prison, more interrogations, more chains.” Her anger seemed to collapse here into something sharper, smaller, infinitely more fragile. “I won’t endure that.”

“No,” Wanda stammered, still stunned by the implications of September’s words, “no that’s not what will happen. My team isn’t like that, no one wants to hurt you.” But even as she said them, the words rolled like ashes. 

“I swear to god Wanda,” said the exhausted voice of September, “I don’t ever remember you being this stupid. I’m a freak, and people don’t like it. I’m a threat, and now I’m a thief and even better a runway. And we both know what happens to rabid dogs.”

“September,” Wanda said softly, “Please, let me help you. You don’t have to go back there, or anywhere, but at least don’t run any further. I swear I don’t know what you’re talking about with the Asguardians and Cree. So tell me more. Just please don’t run.” Wanda undid the red roped around her feet, hoping, hoping, praying that this would act as a show of faith. 

The wind died and September’s voice dropped with it. So soft, almost like a breath through strands of moss. 

“Wanda, Wanda…” she reached up to rub a hand across her face, exhausted, “I just don’t know how to trust you anymore. Because even if everything you’ve said is true, I know you helped your team capture me. And we didn’t exactly part on the best note all those years ago. I, I don’t know who you are anymore. You gave me up, don’t ask me to forgive you.”

The tension was so thick, a single breath and the whole night might fall to pieces. Then came the wind.

Suddenly, Vision was at Wanda’s side, his arrival as unexpected as that of a ghost. 

“Wanda.” A slight incline of his head in her direction, then, “I am afraid, September, that Wanda is correct and you must return with us.”

September’s whole body went taught like a wire, a shaking, breaking, wire, “All that talk about trust and you’re still betraying me. If either one of you comes near me I’ll try to kill you, I swear to fucking god I will.”

She began backing away, her movements hampered to the limp of a wounded animal. 

Vision cocked his head slightly to the side at her words, “Wanda did not inform me that you were here. It was her … agitated behavior that lead me to believe something was wrong and check the room.” There were barbs there beneath his banally pleasant words, hints of a later, likely unpleasant discussion. He continued, “Nevertheless, you have no weapon. You are too ill to fight. If you surrender now, it will go easier on you.”

“No,” September said, still slowly backing away, her legs faltering, “No, no, no.” 

Wanda knew this was her moment, to undo all that she had wrought and done. These were her seconds to earn forgiveness. She hoped September trusted her enough for these moments to come. 

“Vision,” Wanda whispered, “I’m sorry. Tell everyone I’m sorry.” And without a second’s hesitation she threw all of her might into burying Vision into the ground.

He fought it at first, the sheer tension making him grit his teeth. Despite the powerful ropes of red pulling him back he said, “Wanda don’t do this. She is not who you think she is. The girl you knew left her a long time ago. You must know - we just received reports that she is likely involved in the death of a woman two months ago.”

September stared at them, shock, fear, rimming her eyes, “No it’s not true… that’s not what happened.”

Wanda closed her eyes for the briefest of seconds, the span of a butterfly’s kiss.

“But, you see,” she said, “I trust her.”

And then overpowering him, overpowering everything, she forced Vision into the earth. September stared at Wanda in shock, her shoulders shaking slightly. 

Wanda didn’t give her a chance to speak, “I meant what I just said, about trusting you. And I believe that a little part of you still trusts me too. I might be wrong. But I can’t bring myself to believe that that part of you has died,” Wanda felt herself start to cry and couldn’t fight it, didn’t want to, “Don’t tell me that it’s died. We’ve lied to each other and hurt each other and maybe changed forever … but,” the tears came faster, “I still feel like I know you, somehow. I still feel like I get you, some part of you that hasn’t changed. I mean it when I say - I still trust you.”

And with that Wanda threw the stolen chunk of vibranium into the air. September caught it, and for a long moment she didn’t look up from the metallic lump cupped in her hands. When she finally did, Wanda knew she would have to finish talking quickly. Soon the tears wouldn’t leave space in her lungs for air. 

“If you want to run, run. I won’t stop you. I won’t help them, I’ll keep them off your trail for as long as I can. I’ll let you be. But – but if you want, I could come with you. I’m not asking you to forgive me, but I can help you fight these demons chasing you down. I can try. It’ll be just like when we were kids,” she offered with a watery breath, “us facing down the world.”

September’s face struggled, the features twisting, “Damn it Wanda…” Then she seemed to come to a decision. Holding out one hand, a gesture of peace, she said, “Fine then. Come on. We should go before they send in the whole damn cavalry. 

But they only made it a few steps before September nearly collapsed, her right leg giving out. Wanda grabbed for her elbow, frightened by the paleness of September’s face. 

“How bad do you feel?”

“I’m fine” September gritted out.

“Yeah, sure, that’s why you nearly fell on your face,” Wanda sarcastically replied, unconsciously falling into their old banter. “But seriously,” she intoned at a lower register, “if we’re going to do this, at least be honest with me about your injuries. This escape won’t work if we don’t actually get anywhere.”

September stared at Wanda for a long moment and then said, “It’s dizziness and pain. Not quite passing out, but close.” Her body shuddered as of there were other words crawling beneath her skin I’m scared, I’m frightened, I’m cold. 

“It’s okay,” Wanda murmured, moving to support more of September’s weight, “I have a plan.”

“Oh great,” September muttered, “Should I prepare the funeral oration now?”

“Shut up. You know what – now you don’t get to know the plan.”

“Wait. Wait… what the fuc…”

The rest of September’s sentence was cut off as Wanda wrapped them in a cloud of red and sent their bodies flying into the air.

Once they seemed steady at about four feet off the ground September hissed in Wanda’s ear, “What. The. Fuck.”

“I learned how to fly,” she responded nonchalantly.

“Obviously.”

“Stop squeezing my waist so hard, you’re making this more difficult.”

September loosened her grip fractionally, but her fingers still clung like a vise to Wanda’s side. 

They were silent until Wanda spoke again, “Where to?”

September responded, “Head towards the lake about a mile from here.”

“Is that going to be far enough away?”

“It’ll be perfect. Trust me.”

\+ + + 

“There’s no way this is going to work,” T’Kala muttered.

“If we had any other options…” Abbey replied sounding tired, frustrated.

The past week had been consumed by them trying to figure out a way to escape. None of the had really slept, too haunted by the fear that they would be tossed from prison to hell and war. 

 

It was less than a day ago that they had finally settled on a plan, and of all of them, T’Kala was feeling the most pressure. 

“Just one more time,” Abbey said, trying to diffuse the stress, “And then we all need to get some sleep.”

Nearly holding her breath, all September could do was wait and listen, hope and wait.

She counted the seconds of silence in her head, trying to keep the time from going to treacle. Seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen..

Suddenly Abbey’s voice broke in over the connection, “It’s working, its working!”

“What?” T’Kala replied in shock, “It’s working??”

“That’s fucking amazing,” September said. Tears pressured against her eyelids. They were going to escape, finally, finally going to get out of here. 

After everyone calmed down, Abbey had T’Kala try a few more times, making sure that this wasn’t a fluke. And every time it worked September wanted to smile just a little bit more. 

She remembered how insane the plan had seemed when Abbey first came up with it. Abbey believed that even though T’Kala was prevented from controlling water in his room, he might be able to affect it in another’s. However, September was pretty sure none of them believed that his powers were strong enough for such a thing. But they had no other options. And so, he spent hours and hours and hours trying to raise the level of water in Abbey’s sink. It was only in these last few tries that he had been successful. 

Taking some deep breaths, she tried to calm herself down. Sleep was a near impossibility but she had to at least try and rest. No matter how tired she was tomorrow, T’Kala’s success meant they were leaving. But despite her best efforts, she remained haunted in a light doze. Strange dreams of bodies falling and explosions of black light flickered beneath her eyes. 

Eventually she gave up, more willing to face her thoughts than this nightmarish half-dream world. But that might have been a mistake, because now she couldn’t stop thinking about everything that could go wrong. The guard near Abbey’s cell might not be carrying his jumper, the device that allowed the Cree to travel to other places, other worlds. The jumper might land them in another prison or onto some desolate moon. 

Time, seemingly sensing her fear, slid by slowly, drip by drip. But then, like a flash it was gone.

“Morning guys,” Abbey said softly over their link. And then a few minutes later, “Ok T’Kala the last patrol just passed and the guard is in position. I’m ready whenever you are.”

“Ready,” he replied.

“I’m good to go as well,” September said.

Then it all went silent. 

She felt her heart beating against her lungs. In her mind, she traced what was going on, the way Abbey’s sink would slowly fill with water. How the clear drops would spill over in a flood, move to the middle of the room to form a wall. This mass of water would press against Abbey’s door until with a creak and snap the thing would break open, crash down. 

Though not the praying kind, September prayed that Abbey would be quick enough to subdue the guard, would not hesitate to smash his skull with the leg of her stool. September refused to see the other one image, the one where Abbey lay in a white hallway, soaked by her own pools of blood. 

Instead she would be running right now, using all the force of her powers to listen for any approaching guards. Instead she would have the key to T’Kala’s room in her hand. Instead she would be opening his door, setting him free. 

Then there would be …. a creak, as if a door long shut was being pulled open. Pairs of hands, gentle hands, grabbing her shoulders. And then the rip, the pain, the searing, yawning gulf opening inside her body. The hot, slick smell of fresh blood. The metal bar in her shoulder, finally gone. The cold air in her throat when the feeding tube was ripped out. 

Suddenly hands were on her shoulders, kind hands. Real, human hands. A voice, not just inside her head, said, “Hey Sep, it’s Abbey. I know you’re in a lot of pain right now but we need you transform back into a human. Kay?”

As she placed her palm against September’s check, September was more than happy to comply. It hurt like hell and she couldn’t help gasping in pain, but September did it. Abbey’s hand came to rest gently on her back, “It’s okay, it’s okay, just take a deep breath. Don’t worry, T’Kala actually did throw up.”

September heard him mutter, “Thanks Abbey.”

Hearing his voice, September looked up and saw them for the first time. They both seemed exhausted and tense. But there was also an excitement in them, a piece of hope. 

T’Kala grabbed one arm and Abbey the other, helping September onto her unsteady feet. And for a moment they were able to look at each other, to smile, to hold one another’s hand. 

But then T’Kala said, “As happy as I am to actually meet you guys, we have to go.” And the world swung back into motion. Abbey took the jumper and initiated the startup sequence she had learned from listening to the guards.

“It’ll take this fifteen seconds to get ready, and who knows where it’s going to land us. So, no matter what happens,” she looked up straight into their eyes, “It’s been an honor.”

The jumper began to whirl. 

Fifteen.

Fourteen.

Thirteen.

Twelve. 

Eleven.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

Seven.

Six.

Five. 

They were going to do it, they were really going to escape. September felt giddy like bubbles. 

Then, from the hallways, the sound of boots running across the floor.

Four.

Three.

And then there were Cree guards storming the room. 

Two.

And then there was a flash of light.

One. 

Blackout. 

\+ + +

They landed on the shore of lake, stumbling slightly. Wanda felt her shoulders, her fingers, shaking from exhaustion. 

It was peaceful there, the lightly lapping waves catching the moon, the breeze. She felt young for a moment, free. Then they waited in the still, Wanda watching September, and September watching the horizon. 

For a while all that could be heard was the gentle susurrus of water through pebbles. 

Slowly the lapping waves became larger, noisier, and the water in front of September started moving … oddly. As if something from beneath was pushing it up, out of the way. When a man, not much older than her or September, emerged from the water, Wanda failed to stifle a gasp. He was totally dry, the waves around him clearing his path like an old friend. 

September wasn’t fazed at all, though Wanda thought she detected glint of dark humor in her eyes. “Wanda, meet T’Kala. We meet in prison.”

“What do you mean, in prison?” Wanda asked, not knowing what else to say. 

“Not now,” she replied, “We should go, things aren’t going to stay quiet for long.”

Looking over at T’Kala, September broke into a grin. Walking over to him, they hugged tightly, fiercely.

“You got out okay?” he murmured.

“Yeah, I didn’t die so…”

“Shut up.” The words were sharp but fond. September laughed lightly and then let go, shoving his shoulder with her good one. Though they weren’t hugging anymore, they stayed close. Wanda felt a strange, tight flash of jealousy run through her.

Addressing September, T’Kala asked, “So you trust her to be here?” And despite the fact that this was the first time he acknowledged her presence, Wanda felt that he had been watching her from the beginning. 

September nodded, “I do.” Beneath those words was a deeper, unspoken conversation. One where T’Kala asked if she was really worth trusting and September said that she was. For now.

Shrugging his acceptance, T’Kala said, “We go this way.” But Wanda couldn’t quite move until September nodded and followed T’Kala too. She might trust September, but Wanda wasn’t sure T’Kala had any vested interest in keeping her alive. 

They went with him to the shore of the lake, but T’Kala didn’t stop there. Instead he plunged straight back into the water that he emerged from only minutes before. Wanda followed suit, not missing the fact that they kept her in the middle of the group.

The frigid water swirled in blue-grep bands around her body. The snap of the cold was a shock to her system, and Wanda began to worry about what the chill was doing to September’s damaged body. But the cold quickly faded as the water drained away, leaving the three of them in a bubble of air and allowing them to walk ever deeper into the lake. 

Wanda watched, near-mesmerized as the water grew higher around them like some liquid shell. When the water finally encased them, part of her wanted to laugh, and part of her wanted to scream. 

As they walked on the rocky sand of the lake floor, the dark swirled above them. It formed and broke into endlessly complex patterns, sending shadowy bands of grey light swimming across their bodies. 

They walked for what could have been hours, and Wanda became more concerned about September. She was walking slower than before and her footsteps began to sound irregular. When the lake floor started rising Wanda felt relived, hoping this would all be over soon. After emerging from the water the same way they entered, Wanda turned around. The distant shore was barely a smattering of lights. 

Slowly they made their way to a nearby road and on the sidewalk September stopped, hands on her knees, breathing deeply. T’Kala slipped an arm over her shoulders, which suddenly seemed so frail, and said, “Come on, we’re so close now. Just another minute.”

At her nod he helped her stand up and then stayed close as they continued down the street. Wanda felt another strand of jealously light up but tried to bury it deep, deep down. Tried not to think about all the years where she was the one who helped September, when she was the friend September instinctively turned to lean on. 

Eventually they came to the gates of a mansion. Between the thick, iron bars Wanda could see a beautiful house set back on a manicured lawn. She was barely even surprised at this point when T’Kala input a code and one gate clicked open. They slipped through and the gate closed with a barely a thud behind them. 

Here the air smelled warmer and softer, like a breeze after the storm. Wanda felt her lungs gulping it in, trying to clean out the still lingering smell of the hospital. 

September and T’Kala obviously knew this place well. As they made their way up the path, their bodies hugged every shadow like an old friend. 

Once T’Kala disengaged the locks on the main door they moved inside the house. There Wanda watched as the other two finally relaxed, the tension beneath their shoulders just dropping away. T’Kala leaned September against the wall and said, “Be right back, have to turn off the inside alarm.”

Wanda quickly moved over to grab September just before she fell face first onto the carpet.

It was a miracle, this. The hot, heavy heat of September’s chest pressing into her own, the twine of her hair beneath Wanda’s fingers, the pressure of her breath. Wanda inhaled sharply before September pulled away. And pull away she did, putting a good foot of wall between them. But she couldn’t stop staring into Wanda’s eyes. If tension made a sound the air would have been crackling. 

It snapped like a silent rubber band when T’Kala came back down the hallway, saying, “Security systems engaged. We’re as safe as we’re going to be for the next while.”

At this September actually did collapse, her legs sliding straight out, her head tipping against the wall, “Does this mean I have to move?” 

“No, no. Feel free to die down there.” T’Kala sarcastically responded, walking over to her. He slipped one arm under her legs and the other under her shoulder, lifting her up and heading towards the stairs. Wanda felt the beast in her stomach sharpen its teeth.

Not sure where else to go, Wanda followed them up the stairs. The house was long, its upper hallway containing at least six rooms. T’Kala made for the second on the right, moving through the gloom quickly and surely. 

The room he entered was dark, its curtains tightly drawn. There wasn’t much in there, other than a bed pushed to one corner, a desk, and a chair. Heavy paintings hung on the wall. Dim as it was the room smelled of luxury, a lonely luxury. But there were also the lumps of some clothing strewn across the floor and that made Wanda smile. September always had been such a mess. 

As he lay September on the bed T’Kala heard him ask, “Are you okay?”

And her soft response, “Yeah. Its surgery pain and a lack of sleep. Not like the infection was.”

“Okay, because I’m not sure we can get our hands on anymore penicillin.”

That elicited a soft laugh and T’Kala turned to leave. But right before he closed the door he glanced at Wanda and then back at September. Only at her nod did he shut it behind himself. 

The tension began to mount again, this time tighter than before. Wanda stared at September. September stared at Wanda. And finally the tension consumed the distance between them. 

She walked over to sit on the bed, her hip to September’s side. Her fingers drifted out gently, slowly – ice bergs have moved more quickly – to brush against the bruises in September’s skin. 

One by one, her fingers catalogued the colors. Dark purple, plum, red, crimson, yellow, a saffron-coated scar. 

Her fingers drifted up to September’s face, and at the touch September closed her eyes. One by one, Wanda found the wounds. The deep vein where her nose had once been broken. A puckered red line near her temple. A florescent frieze decorating her right cheekbone. Innumerable white lines. One by one, she traced them. 

When she reached a scar running into the pink of her top lip the tension snarled. September’s hand flashed out to grab Wanda’s wrist. Her eyes flared open and locked, cornea to cornea, with Wanda. Slowly, slowly – glaciers are faster – she lifted her own fingers to brush against Wanda’s check, to drift against her jaw, to nestle around the frail skin of her ear.

The tension snapped like lightning and rolled like thunder. Wanda wasn’t sure who moved first, whose body found whose first, who kissed who first.

And it was angry, at first, it was so angry. It was fighting without words and arguing without pain. It was a tangle of lips and teeth and tongues like a weapon. No one would call it pretty. 

But then September’s fingers tightened around her jaw and pulled her closer. It became something more too. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry. Because fighting had never been the end of the story for them. 

It became a well to fall down, a tumbling tunnel where, if there was an end, might rest of a hole filled with light. 

They broke apart panting, nose to nose. Wanda couldn’t help but smile. 

After a few minutes of simply sharing the same air, September began to cry. It was a subtle thing, nothing more than the roll of tears. Wanda brushed her thumbs across September’s cheeks, saying, “Shhh, shhh, what is it? You can tell me. You can tell me.”

September shook her head, but she couldn’t make the silent tears stop coming. Wanda pressed closer, chest to chest, stomach to stomach, temple to temple. Her hand slid from behind September’s neck to cradle the very back of her jaw, “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

She broke against Wanda’s shoulder, dissolving into harsh sobs, “It’s … it’s too much, everything. I can’t do it. I can’t carry it all. I can’t.” 

Wanda stayed silent, giving her the time to say what she couldn’t. September took in a few more ragged sobs before saying, “Do you know what the worst of it is? There’s so many things eating me alive, but do you know what the worst part is? We didn’t even bury her body. She died for us Wanda. And we didn’t even bury her.”

\+ + + 

The snow impacted, frigid cold against her body. It burned. Everything burned. 

Opening her eyes, September saw black skies, tinged purple as a bruise. Light pollution. Like from cities. She closed her eyes briefly again and felt thin snowflakes drift against her checks. Maybe, when she opened them, T’Kala and Abbey would be gone, maybe she would be lost alone. Maybe she was sitting in the forests her home and it would be years ago and none of this would have happened.

Instead, when she opened them, T’Kala was standing ten feet away looking down at a body. September jerked her limbs upright, had to muffle the scream. 

She crawled through the snow. It stung. She stopped. T’Kala was on his knees beside her. Abbey was sprawled there, in front of them. Her blue eyes stared up into that purple sky, lifeless. September sobbed low in her throat. Blue eyes. She had never known what color they were till now.

T’Kala grabbed her hands with his own shaking ones. They held so tightly that later they would discover bloody crescents in their palms. 

T’Kala let go and shuffled through the bloody snow, red flakes piling around him. He lifted Abbey’s head into his lap. September cradled Abbey’s bloody fingers within her own. 

They held on.

Screams began to form at the peripheral of her hearing. Human screams. 

She looked up, saw people moving through the trees, the park, this must be a park, toward them. Earth. She wanted to lay her against the raged hole in Abbey’s chest and cry, Earth. Home. 

The screaming only got louder. The people only got closer. 

T’Kala reached over, took her hand, Abbey’s hand, into his own. Slowly, he pulled September’s free. Gently, with love, he placed Abbey’s head back on the ground. 

One last look. One last goodbye. September wished she could just close her eyes, go back into time and open them. No one would be lying on the ground, Abbey wouldn’t be dead. None of this would have happened.

She and T’Kala helped each other stand, because Abbey would have wanted them to run. Even in their shock, they knew that. 

September stole one last look. It burned into her mind.

Abbey’s body, spread across the ground. Blank corneas staring up, reflecting fallen snow.


	4. Chapter 4

The night might never have ended. Light only arrives on faith and promise.

When the sun did rise its weak light found two sleeping bodies, one intertwined with the other. Two pairs of knees, tucked up like children do. Two foreheads, one resting against a pair of lips. 

Two sets of lungs, slowly breathing.

The sun’s light made a creaking sound as it slipped across floorboards. It grew stronger, formed golden bars catching the hurdle of dust motes. 

Bit by bit, the room shook off its long cold. 

And it can’t be said whose eyes opened first, whether it was light or loss of shadow woke them.

They might have stayed like that for hours. There are days that never end, too. 

It can’t be said who kissed who first. It doesn’t really matter. There were lips, and quiet, and breathing.

No words. Not everything needs to be said like that. 

\+ + + 

Wanda scrubbed the heel of her palm over gritty eyes as she made her way into the kitchen. She saw September starting to make the coffee and intercepted her just in time, saying, “I got it.”

“You sure?”

“I have taste buds, so … yes.”

From the corner of her eye Wanda thought she saw T’Kala crack a smile. 

Baby steps. 

Wanda kept her hands busy measuring the grounds, pouring the water, trying not to focus on the tension of being the outlier in that little family.

“Can I at least make the eggs?” September asked, her slight jest breaking through Wanda’s concentration. 

“Please. Mine never turn out quite right.”

“That is because you use milk instead of cream.”

“The cream goes bad.”

“Only if you buy a half gallon of it.”

“That was once and I swear they didn’t have it in smaller quantities.”

“I didn’t even know they sold cream in half gallons! It takes serious effort to have that level of selective vision.” But the words were said with laughter, without sting. 

At this point T’Kala, siting at the table with his head in his hands, interrupted, “Please, please. It’s what, 8 in the morning? And there still isn’t coffee.”

“Fair enough,” September responded. 

For a while everything was quiet as they moved around each other. Wanda finished making the coffee while September started on the eggs and T’Kala set the table. Wanda marveled at the way she and September were able to spin around one another. There was this ease, as if the years hadn’t happened. As if they could flip back the calendar a few pages and still recognize the kids making brownies, arguing about chocolate chips or caramel. Sleeping under the stars, mapping the constellations against each other’s palms. It was cold, their breath hung in the air.

Even sitting down, eating scrambled eggs, felt like an act out of long ago. But when Wanda looked up, Septembers plate was nearly untouched. She was hunched over, one hand clenched in a tight fist and her face a bit pale, as if she was going to be sick. 

“You aren’t eating,” Wanda said softly.

September just shook her head, jaw tightening another notch. Without looking up, she reached out and took a drink of hot coffee. It must have burned on the way down, but her face still relaxed by degrees. 

“Sorry,” September said with a brief grimace, her voice a bit rough, “I, uh, I sometimes have a hard time eating. Not eating, uh … swallowing. I had a, a feeding tube, back in the prison. For two years. That thing, filling my throat… sometimes the memory of that makes it really hard swallow. Sometimes I can’t eat at all. Mostly I just have to go slow. It helps, to eat a little bit and then drink. Keeps the food down.”

Wanda reached out to squeeze September’s hand, unsure what else to do, even as September ducked her head to intently study her food. A deep flash of hatred built inside Wanda, like she hadn’t felt since the day she ripped out Ultron’s heart. Since the day her brother died. She tried to bury that swirling cocktail inside herself. Right now, September didn’t need to carry any more ghosts. 

Desperate for something to break the tension, Wanda said, “Well, I guess we can try soup for lunch.”

It turns out that was exactly what to say because September laughed so hard she nearly spewed another sip of coffee across the table

But laughing couldn’t fix everything. As soon as the dished were cleared and no one had anything to do with their hands, the awkwardness rose again. Each person drifted around the other, no one quite sure where to go, what to do. They eventually settled around the dining room table. Wanda felt a jumpiness rising in her throat.

September looked over at Wanda, reading her insecurity in the situation, her nerves. It could be called hesitant, the way September reached out with her palm to touch Wanda’s wrist. Or maybe gentle. Compassionate September said softly, “I know, I know this has been a whirlwind. You must have some questions.”

Wanda deliberately didn’t pull away, “Yeah, I might have a few.” And if a little sarcasm slipped into her voice, could anyone blame her? “For one, and not to put too fine a point on it, but whose house is this?”

And Wanda earned another victory because that question made T’Kala start laughing. 

“Fair enough,” he replied, “fair enough. This house is my uncle’s summer vacation home. Considering that no one is home at the moment, and I know where he hides the key, we thought this would be a good hiding spot.”

Wanda looked over at September, as if hoping her friend could read the next question out of her mind, “Your uncle? T’Kala I’m not trying to be rude, but who are you?”

This time no laugh. Instead T’Kala leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes meeting Wanda’s dead on. Evaluating. A deep breath. A decision.

“You’re right. I should explain. My name is T’Kala. My family is Wakandan, I grew up in a town not far from here. But when I was twelve my father died. My mother decided it was time for a new start, a new life. She had studied Portuguese in college and decided we were moving to Brazil, a town called Praia da Fazenda. She loved the water, the quiet. I lived there until the Cree took me.” He went quiet for a moment, features going still, glacial still, “I haven’t made it back. My mother’s still alive, doing fine.” He tried to say this loosely, smoothly, but there isn’t armor big enough to hide cracks that large. “We were able to call her, a month or so ago. She knows I’m alive. She’s been able to stop looking for me. But I don’t,” he rubbed his face, tired, “I don’t know when I’ll see her again.”

“I’m sorry,” Wanda said, knowing there was nothing else she could truly offer. 

He nodded his thanks. What other words were there to offer?

Wanda turned to September, her body half hesitant, her words the same, “And your dad?”

September studied her finger nails, “He’s the same as T’Kala’s mom. He knows I’m … okay. He nearly had a fit when I told him he couldn’t help us. Too dangerous. I was barely able to convince him to stay away. He’s made me promise to come home to him someday.”

Desperate to change the subject, to get rid of those empty, half-broken looks Wanda quickly asked, “So why did you think I was working with the Asguardians and the Cree?” Although as soon as she said it, Wanda realized it might not have been the most sensitive topic change. 

September and T’Kala stared at each other until September finally lost the silent debate. 

She rubbed the back of her neck and said, “Fine.” Taking a deep breath, she continued, “Bear with me. I have to start at the beginning. There was this woman, Sif, Lady Sif.” She spat the word, Lady, like a curse. “I met Sif right around the time that Ultron blew a hole in the goddamned earth and you joined the Avengers. You have to understand Wanda, I was lonely, I was tired. I mean, I had dad, but you know him he’s always been lost in his work. And I had lost you. By the time Sif showed up I was desperate to feel something that wasn’t” she gestured between herself and Wanda, “this.”

“It was a fling,” September continued. “Just supposed to be some summer fling. But then I decided to be really fucking stupid. I showed her my powers. I didn’t know she was Asguardian. I didn’t know she was there specifically to find out if I was an inhuman. I thought … I thought she’d think I was magic, and blame the impossible on the alcohol.” September looked up from her under her lashes, defiant, beaten and broken.

Wanda sat back in shock, “How could you do that?”

September shot back, “How could I? I’m not the only one who did something stupid to fill the damned hole in their chest. I might have trusted her, but I didn’t throw away everything to let Hydra stick needles in me.”

Wanda tried to take a deep breath and not have the same fight, again. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It wasn’t fair of me. It’s just … you knew how risky that was.”

“I know,” September said softly, “Don’t worry, I’m pissed too.”

“Good.”

And just like that, the fight was done. 

September continued her story after a breath, “And then the next thing I knew I was in prison, a feeding down my throat and a metal bar through my shoulder. 

Wanda leaned forward, her voice dropping an octave, “So that’s what happened to your shoulder?”

“In a manner of speaking. The bar was enchanted: it forced me to turn into the same metal it was made of. And one wall of the room was magnetic, so movement or inconvenient escapes were not really options. Fortunately, when Abbey,” pause, “and T’Kala here came to save me touching their skin allowed me to transform back into a person. We decided to take the bar out in case the enchantment got reactivated. But after two years bar had become integrated into my body. Pulling it out, let’s just say it was a bloody fucking mess. So, technically, that’s what happened to my shoulder.

“Anyway... To finally answer your question. When we got back to earth, we learned about how friendly the Avengers were with Thor and the Asguardians. The news reports also said that you had joined the Avengers during the battle against Ultron.” September’s voice got quiet, “It was only a few days after that battle that I met Sif. And I wondered if you had changed so much, during your time with Hydra. If our fights, and losing Pietro, and everything had changed you so much. So when the Asguardians had asked the newest Avenger if she knew any special people, people with powers, she said yes.”

Wanda felt a sickness grow in herself, a deep, thick mold wihtin her stomach. “When I helped Steve and T’Challa find you…”

“I confirmed everything I didn’t want to believe. And I didn’t believe Wanda, I didn’t.” September’s voice took on a tinge of desperation, just for a moment. “Not until you pinned me to the earth and I saw that helicopter descending. Not until then.”

“I’m sorry, September, I’m so, so sorry.” Wanda stood up, dragged September into a hug. Mashed bones against bones, held tighter. Whispered inaudibly into her hair, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Pulled tighter. Wanda nearly stopped breathing until the moment September squeezed back. Wanda leaned back, rested her forehead against September’s, tried to speak loud enough so T’Kala could hear too, “It isn’t an excuse, I know it isn’t, I’m sorry. I didn’t know, and I don’t believe Steve or T’Challa knew. But that doesn’t make this right.” Wanda leaned in, her nose against September’s nose, “Sep, I’m so sorry.” 

“I know.”

\+ + + 

Days had passed. Still days, spent within the confines of the house, in the garden paths shaded by trees. 

Days wondering what was coming next. Because there was no way the universe was going to let them off this easy; free, together, licking off old wounds.

Wanda it enjoyed it anyway, agaisnt the lingering sense of a storm coming. There was a simple peace to admitting that the worst was inevitable. 

One evening, with twilight setting in, Wanda found herself wandering outside. The air was cool, barely able to heat her skin. Taking in a deep breath, the cleaner taste of air, she leaned back against the house wall. Slowly she slid down to rest on the rough stone of a bench. Overhead the green leaves slowly seeped out to a silvery grey. Their stems became invisible. They floated in paralyzed motion. 

The reverie barley broke with the sounds of footsteps on the gravel path. Turning her head Wanda watched September walk down, her shoes left behind on the grass.

“Careful you don’t cut your feet,” Wanda said.

“I think I’ll be alright,” September replied with a smile. She joined Wanda on the bench. 

They were quiet for a while until September remarked, “It’s getting cloudy, might rain soon.” 

“Are we really talking about the weather?” 

“Maybe.”

They fell back into silence, one watching the clouds, the other watching the leaves.

September sighed softly and Wanda felt in her gut what was coming.

“We haven’t had a chance to talk about this, but I heard about Pietro. Wanda, I’m sorry.”

Wanda didn’t even bother to nod stiffly, “It wasn’t your fault.” And she meant it.

But September shook her head, “I could have been then for you though. I’m sorry I left you alone. I’m sorry you lost your brother.”

Wanda nodded again, but couldn’t find the words to say around her chest. The weight of memory grew thicker, stronger, an anvil. But September had known Pietro, had loved him too. Wanda laid her head against September’s arm, let that anvil slip onto two backs, two sets of shoulders. September held Wanda there, pressed her lips to the crown of Wanda’s hair.

She spoke for both of them, a eulogy Wanda didn’t have to give, “I couldn’t believe it, when I heard he was gone. I never really thought someone like him was capable of dying. Other people, but not Pietro. He was a good man, he loved with so much of himself. He really did, Wanda, loved so much. Especially you.”

Wanda reached out blindly, grabbing September’s hand. Twinning fingers together, blindly.

It finally seemed safe to say, “I miss him. Sometimes more than I can bear. Sometimes it feels like there’s this giant hole missing and I don’t know how to fill it. I don’t . I don’t. Somedays, I don’t think it can be filled. And sometimes I think I can finally learn to live without a piece of myself. Somedays I think that’s a lie, Sep.

I miss him.”

September squeezed her hand back.

“He loved you Wanda.”

Wanda started to cry, “They say, on the news and stuff, that he died a hero. And I wonder how that’s supposed to help. I don’t want a hero. I don’t care that he died well. I care that he died.”

“I know,” September said softly.

Wanda inched closer, her body folding around September. They sat like that, one’s eyes watching the sky, one’s eyes watching the leaves, searching for signs. 

\+ + +

It was late that night, so late it might be said early that morning. The house was still. Everyone was asleep. 

But then shadows began to move, as if a curtain had been lightly ruffled by a passing breeze. Or a breath. 

Around the house the shadows arose, one by one, in the still air.

They closed in, grey imprints against the still night.

The front door of the house swung open. it didn’t make a sound. Through it the shadows spilled.

They glided up corridors, and in their shadowy arms were shadowy guns.

An alarm went off, then two, three. The sound shredded the night like bullets through tissue. 

The shadows ran, their perverse elegance abandoned. Now they moved like dogs, hungry, hungry dogs.

Sounds filtered to the lower floors: three pairs of scrambling feet, the hissed word, “Cree.”

But by then shadows were already spilling back to the arms of the night, their work done in a matter of moments. When the last one left, it paused for a moment at the door, calling out “This was a fun game. You’ll never play it again. But maybe it will bring you some comfort to know: you aren’t the end. There are always more monsters like you.”

Then it fled as the others fled, running as if it was about to burned alive.

 

A rumble broke out.

The house shook.

 

A deeper rumble.

 

The building twitched violently. Crumpled violently.

A third rumble, and then a roar. The house descended onto itself. Metal melted. Wood exploded. The center was a bloody maw of flame. 

When the fire trucks finally arrived they found the remains of an inferno that had stopped as suddenly as it had started. By dawn, the house was nothing but a smoldering, spitting shell.

Occasionally a surviving stump of black wood would collapse. A shower of sparks would rise up, fall, and die.

\+ + +

“Okay,” T’Kala gasped, still coughing from the smoke, “I say we never do that again.”

The three of them were laying in the middle of a park, soot-stained and exhausted. Their bodies made indistinct forms in the early fog.

“Do you think” September asked, her throat also raw, “that they finally think we’re dead?”

“We should be,” Wanda muttered, her eyes closed, “I’m not even Steve knew I was powerful enough to protect us from that.”

“Ah yes,” T’Kala said, “Thank you by the way for saving our lives with that red … bubble.”

“Don’t mention it,” she replied. 

Wanda turned her head, concerned when September broke into a coughing fit. But within a few seconds her lungs quieted down and September was able to ask, “Do you really think it was the Cree?”

T’Kala replied darkly, “Oh, I’m sure. For a moment by the stairwell I saw one of their blue faces and them whispering. That was their language. It was them.”

They all lay silent for a few moments, trying to grasp everything that had just happened to them. Then the fog skittered and formed the shapes in the shadows. Wanda felt her heart thud, her adrenaline spike. It seemed for a moment the Cree had found them, again, open and vulnerable. September must have had the same thought, because she sat up slowly saying, “We have to go. The Cree aren’t stupid and if they realize we didn’t die in that explosion… well, it’s just time to move.”

But T’Kala was still laying on his back, staring into the mist.

“Where?” He said, sounding defeated. “Where do we go? Where next? I’m starting to run out of places to run Sep. The Cree found us once, they can do it again. And the Wakandan government wants us thrown in prison. Where are we supposed to go now?”

“I don’t know.”

Wanda stayed silent, hearing an exhaustion in their voices. Of not knowing where their bed would be, or if they would have one come night fall. Of trying to survive in impossible odds. Of living frightened. 

“Maybe,” T’Kala said, sounding deeply hestitant, “Maybe there is a way.”

“A way to what?” September asked tiredly. 

“To stop running. But, first promise me you’ll listen.”

“Okay.”

And Wanda was confused why, before he continued, T’Kala looked straight at her.

“We turn ourselves in to the Wakandans.”

“Are you insane?” September said.

“Listen to me.” He spoke in stringent, measured tones, “We’re out of options. We tried running and they hunted us. We tried hiding and nearly got arrested and killed. We can’t ever go to our families like this. We can’t go anywhere without risking our lives and the lives of everyone around us. I think the best thing is for once in this goddamned mess to just tell the truth.”

“And you think we should tell it to the Wakandans and the Avengers? Have you forgotten the fact that they want to imprison us? Probably forever?”

“I believe Wanda when she said they didn’t know what the Cree were doing. And I believe that Steve and T’Challa are honorable men. If they hear the truth, perhaps, they will believe us. I’m not happy about trusting them with our lives, but I also don’t want to die.”

T’Kala could tell that September still wasn’t fully convinced so he said in a softer voice, “And I know that I’m tired of running away from the Cree. Tired of watching them wreck destruction on us, on those like us. I want to make them pay. We have every right to make them suffer. I want to make sure they never imprison anyone else. But like this, here and now, we can’t. With the Avengers, the Wakandans, we stand a chance.”

September responded after a long moment, after a long, hard look at T’Kala: “You might, and I don’t want to say this, but you might be right.” 

After that she seemed to deflate. Her body sank a little harder against the tree she had been leaning on. “I guess I don’t know how many options we really have left.”

Sitting up, Wanda saw the slump that ran through September’s whole body, the tired set of T’Kala’s joints and bones. It was like watching people face a firing squad, unsure if there really were bullets in those chambers. 

Wanda breathed deep. “I’ll talk to them. First. I’ll tell them everything, and if I don’t come back then you’ll know to run.”

“No,” September snapped, suddenly, violently, “You can’t do that.”

“It’ll keep you safe.” Wanda said softly.

“No.”

“Be quiet and listen for once in your life. I’m going to do this.” Wanda stood up, walked over to where September was standing, “Sep. I’ve made a lot of promises I didn’t keep. I’ve made too many mistakes. It’s time for me to pay for them, in the way I can.”

“No,” September whispered, “No.”

“Hey,” Wanda said softly, “I can do this. It’s a lot less risky for me than it is for you. And I helped make this mess, Sep. So it’s time.”

September looked away, at the ground, “I only just got you back. It just, it just feels like I’m finally getting you back. I don’t want to lose you.”

Wanda had to restrain a wince at the sudden pain in her chest. But September wasn’t finished, “So you better come back, okay? You better fucking come back.”

“Okay,” Wanda said softly, “okay.”

“Are we agreed?” T’Kala asked.

A nod, a nod.

Wanda stood. The others followed suit. T’Kala came up to her, gave her a tight hug, saying, “Be careful, Wanda Maximov. Bring us home.”

She nodded tightly. She hadn’t been ready for this sudden goodbye. 

T’Kala nodded back and then stepped away, giving her and September some space.

“Hey,” September said, hugging Wanda tightly. So tightly there was nothing between them but hearts, blood, muscles, bood. “Come back. I want you back. Here, with me. So don’t you dare fucking die. Don’t you get captured. Or I’m coming for you.”

“Sep…”

“Either come back or I’m coming for you.”

“Okay,” Wanda said, “Okay.” 

September pulled back a little then, just enough to lean back in, to kiss Wanda softly. 

Wanda didn’t ever want to let go. She could spend the rest of her life just chasing this.

“Sep, Sep..”

“I know. You have to go. Go.”

 

“I said, go.”

“I know. I know.”

And with that, Wanda stepped away. Then she was gone. 

Left behind was a man, a woman, and the remnants of reds lines. They looked, if you really wanted them to, like a body.

\+ + +

It was still foggy on the other side of the lake, foggy near the hospital where so much had changed in so little time.

But not foggy enough to hide the figure of Vision, standing guard outside one of the gates. Never foggy enough to hide her from him.

Wanda landed, began to walk toward him. Better like this, to see him face to face, no skulking, no hiding. It had to be better like this…  
She could hear the faint crunch of dirt as it rubbed up against her boots. The air was so cold and heavy. Heavy against her lungs. Her heart was rattling around her ribs, trying to find a place to hide.

“Wanda.” His measured voice. Always too careful. As if it was a sin to admit that he could feel. 

The air slowly turned fetid.

“Vision,” she said, stopping a few feet away. Pleadingly, “Vis.”

He was cold, so cold, “I must bring you in for adding and abetting the escape of a criminal. You realize this.”

“Vision,” she said, feeling something but it wasn’t surprise, “just let me talk. I came back for a good reason. Just hear me out.”

His face was a glass mask, a glacier, “Shall I listen to you as you once listened to me? I warned you Wanda. I let you make your choice.”

She sighed, closed her eyes for a brief second, felt her lips her teeth her tongue still warm from the kiss. 

“As much as you hate it, Vis, I did listen to you that night. I just didn’t agree. Please, just listen to me. When I’m done, if you still want, you can arrest me.”

He stared a long moment, and then nodded. 

It was time to start at the beginning. To finally tell the truth.

“You know that her name is September, that we grew up together. But it was more than that. We dated since we were teenagers. I fell in love with her. I loved her. I still love her. I still trust her. She’s not a criminal, Vis, she and T’Kala are victims of horrible crimes.”

“Who is T’Kala? Her accomplice?”

Wanda took a deep, unsteady breath, “If you want to call him that, yes. He’s also a friend.”

Vision shook his head, “And you believe her?”

“I do. They don’t deserve to be hunted or arrested or imprisoned. I’m here because I want to speak to Steve and T’Kala, to tell them the truth. I want to ask you all to listen. Because, Vis, once you hear what they have to say, you’ll understand why they did what they had to do.”

She couldn’t read him like this, not with his features frozen in a foreign, robotic stillness. Eventually he said, “I do not believe they have told you the truth. But I believe Captain Rogers and King T’Challa should be allowed to make that final judgement.” 

“I understand.”

\+ + + 

The room was silent. No one interrupted. Judge. Jury. Trial. Executioner.

They listened – Steve, T’Challa, Tony, Vision, Sam, Natasha – and no one said a word.

Wanda said everything.

Her history with September. The Cree’s plan for those like September and T’Kala, those with powers. What they had done to September, and T’Kala, and Abbey. What they were doing to so many others like them. Why they had stolen the vibranium. Why they had run. 

Wanda made sure she said everything, all the words she needed to. All the things rattling around inside her brain. Because if it was left unsaid now – this was her only chance. 

So when she stopped speaking to that wall of faces it felt like something really was finished. 

The truth will out. The 

Wanda tried to breathe, but around this silence, impossible.

Perhaps Vision was right, and what she had to say really was unbelievable. She hadn’t been ready for a such a sudden goodbye.

It was a relief when Steve began to speak, at least there was judgement, at least there was something.

“Thank you, Wanda, for coming back to speak to us. I know it was a risk. What you’ve said, it actually makes some sense, considering what we already know. But I still need to know more – would September and T’Kala consider coming here to speak to us themselves?”

Wanda was about to respond, but before she could say anything Tony broken in.

“Wait. Let me get this straight. Wanda’s secret superpowered girlfriend steals some vibranium, convinces Wanda to attack Vision, and then spins her some yarn about imprisonment and we’re just supposed to believe all this? Look, Wanda, I like you, I really do. But it’s going to take more than a few heart wrenching details to get me on your side. Interplanetary prisons. Aliens building up super human armies. It sounds like a far-fetched, badly-written sci-fi film.”

“Oh, for the love of a god,” Natasha muttered. “Can you shut up and leave your issues behind for just one second? You have met Loki, right? Because what Wanda just described sounds like something he could cook up on a good day. I don’t put much past aliens anymore.”

Sam interjected then, trying to maintain some semblance of peace, “Look, it’s like Cap said, we’re gonna need a little more proof for what Wanda is saying. But if she’s right and we ignore her…”

He let the rest of that sentence hang in the air. Let them imagine all that was at stake. 

In the slice that followed it was T’Challa who spoke to Wanda, saying, “I would like to ask T’Kala and September to join us here so we can hear what they have to say.” Then turning to Steve and Tony he said, “Would one of you able to contact Thor to find out if he has any knowledge of their claims?”

His suggestion of speaking Thor seemed to placate Tony and the room relaxed by a degree. At Steve’s nod Wanda rose from the table. In this strange atmosphere, she wasn’t sure how to say goodbye, so instead she merely nodded, said, “I’ll be back.” 

\+ + +

The red came through the fog stealthily. At first it was a thin glow, like a glowing fire at dusk. It slowly grew stronger and stronger until, suddenly, the red tendrils spun all around September and T’Kala. And in the middle of the red was Wanda. 

September didn’t bother to say anything. Instead she just kissed Wanda until there was no air left in her lungs. Finally, September pulled back to whisper, “You have no idea how worried I was that I would never see you again.”

Wanda murmured in September’s hair, “I might.”

When September stood back it was only to remain an armlength apart. T’Kala came up and clapped Wanda on the shoulder, “I might have been slightly worried too.”

“Oh, shut up,” Wanda said, laughing a little. But beneath his relief Wanda saw a guarded tension. He was wondering just what her return meant for them. 

For one desperate moment Wanda didn’t want to tell them what had happened. Leading them back there felt like waltzing in a den of vipers. At any moment a snake could strike. 

If only their patch of the world could be retained forever. A space where no one wanted anything form them. 

But in the end it wasn’t Wanda who had to breach the silence, because September asked, “What happens now?” And by that she meant, what happened there?

“They aren’t totally convinced. But they listened to what I had to say and they want to meet you. Listen to your side of the story. Steve’s going to try to contact Thor, see if he knows anything. I know Thor’s an Asguardian but he’s also a good man. He’d never have had a part in what happened to you. If anything, he’s our best hope at getting them to really believe us.”

September sighed, resigned, “I guess we were going to have to face the music at some point.”

Unclenching his shoulders T’Kala said, “I guess so.”

“Ready?” Wanda asked.

September looked around them and for a moment Wanda thought she saw her in eyes the same desire to stay. To never leave this place, where even if they lived in shadows at least they might be free.

“Yes. No point in hanging around.”

Nodding Wanda instructed them to grab onto her forearms. Once they had done soon she looked skyward and without pausing, not even for the span of a breath, threw them upwards. 

\+ + +

When they arrived, the entire room stilled again. Wanda felt more than saw September freeze behind her. Fearing she and T’Kala might straight-up bolt Wanda reached blindly behind her and grasped September’s hand. 

Steeling herself Wanda said, “Everybody. I would like to officially introduce you to September and T’Kala. Guys, this is Steve, Natasha, Sam, Tony, and Vision.”

For a moment Wanda had the feeling that she was standing between two massive waves, bearing down to smash into one another. The air seemed to vibrate on its own accord. 

But of course, as always, it was Steve who took the plunge, who pulled the mountains apart. He stood up, walked to where they were standing and said, “Hi. It’s nice to get a proper introduction. I’m sorry that the first time we meet was in less than ideal circumstances.”

Reaching out he shook September’s hand, then T’Kala’s as well. Wanda had to restrain a laugh, because it was so ridiculous, all of it. Only Steve would have been able to pull it off.

After the rather awkward introductions Steve invited them to all sit around the table. Wanda still felt a bit frozen, a bit lost. But she knew September needed grounding even more, and so not once did Wanda let go of her hand. 

Steve continued speaking, seemingly the only person who knew what to say: “I was able to contact Thor. He was extremely … interested in what you had to say. He should be here soon. To save you having to tell your story twice we going to hold most of our questions until he arrives. But I believe T’Challa has something to ask you while we wait. ” Steve looked over at T’Challa, who began to speak.

“Yes, thank you. I was wondering if you could explain how you broke into the facility storing the vibranium?”

At this September and T’Kala looked at each other, as if debating who was going to answer this own. 

With a huff, T’Kala admitted defeat and said, “My uncle is the head of security of the vibranium facility. He started teaching me how to code when I was just a kid, kept tutoring me even after I moved to Brazil. I got good, really good. Would have done computer programming in college. Combine that with my familiarity around his coding and I was eventually able to hack into the vibranium facility. But,” and here his face went serious, “my uncle has nothing to do with what I did. He didn’t help me. He still believes that I’m missing.”

After a measured look T’Challa nodded.

Leaning over, Wanda whispered to September, “Is this the same uncle whose house we stayed in and inadvertently blew up?’

“Yes.”

“Wonderful.”

However, T’Kala wasn’t done speaking. Continuing to address T’Challa he said, “I am sorry, though, that it came to that. In the circumstances, stealing the vibranium seemed like the only viable option. But I’m sorry for stealing from my country. For doing something that could hurt my uncle. I’m not proud of it.”

Whatever else T’Challa’s eyes held when they looked at T’Kala, it wasn’t hate, it wasn’t condemnation, “There is what is right. There is what is wrong. And there is what one has to do. I understand that you were trapped, and I thank you for your honesty. Nevertheless, I think we will be updating our computer security.”

That made T’Kala laugh.

Moments later, Thor arrived, his entrance snapping the tension in the room. His body seemed to take up half the space and his voice boomed as he said, “Greetings. Forgive me for not being here sooner, I hope my delay has not caused any problems.”

“Your right on time.” Steve got up and hugged him like a brother. From the corner of her eye Wanda thought she saw Tony look away. 

Grasping Steve by the shoulder Thor turned to the room and said, “Now, tell me everything.”

Gesturing to where September and T’Kala sat, Steve replied, “I believe it’s time we all heard their story.”

Thor sat as September and T’Kala began, haltingly at first, to tell their tale. Just like when Wanda had spoken the room was silent. The story was so stunning, so strange, at points so terrible that there was nothing that could be done other than to listen. Thor was rapt, only asking a few, clarifying questions. 

Once September and T’Kala finally finished speaking the room was one collective inhale of breath. Thor leaned back, arms crossed loosely across his stomach.

Judge, jury. Trial, executioner. 

He spoke.

“When Steven first told me what these two experienced, I did not wish to believe that such a thing could be done by my own people. I was delayed in arriving because I felt I first had to speak with the Lady Sif. Whatever else she has done, she has never lied to me. What she told me confirms the truth of what these two have said. A small faction of Asguardians worked with the Cree, believing those like September and T’Kala to be to dangerous to walk freely. Sif says she knew nothing of the Cree plans to build an army. But that does not excuse what she, and the others, have done.”

An exhaustion creeped into Thor’s voice, his body, as he continued, “Much has changed in Asguard since I left. We have begun to lose our way. Fear outsiders. We should instead have started to fear ourselves.” The gaze he fixed on T’Kala and September was piercing in its intensity. “On behalf of Asguard, I apologize for all that you have suffered. Yet I know this apology can do nothing to change what you have endured. All I can offer is a promise that you will never be hunted by Cree or Asguaridan again. I give you my solemn word that the prison will be disbanded, those held in it set free. And if you wish to join me in hunting down the last of the Cree on this planet, it would be my honor to fight beside you.”

“Yes.” They said. Yes yes yes yes yes.


End file.
